


Rivalry & Redemption

by fandomsinabluebox1998



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Arthur Pendragon - Freeform, Bisexual Merlin, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Gryffindor Arthur, Gwen/Lancelot - Freeform, Hogwarts, Hufflepuff Gwen, Jealousy, Love/Hate, M/M, Merlin - Freeform, Merthur - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Slytherin Merlin, ravenclaw morgana
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-11-07 04:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11051184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomsinabluebox1998/pseuds/fandomsinabluebox1998
Summary: Merlin Emrys, a Slytherin 6th year at Hogwarts, is looking forward to a successful term. He has his best friend Gwen, the respect of professors and students, and a spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team as a talented Chaser.There's only one problem - Arthur Pendragon.Best friends when they were young, Merlin and Arthur now battle in a fierce rivalry, both on and off the Quidditch pitch. After an accident, however, the two Hogwarts students slowly start to rekindle their friendship, only for it to lead to much more.Relationships are tested, emotions rise, and secrets of the past are revealed.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is my first published fic, please be nice. 
> 
> There will be several chapters, this first one is more of an intro.
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments!
> 
> (Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own Merlin, or Harry Potter, all rights go to the BBC, JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc.) 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

_“Lumos.”_

The tip of Merlin’s wand glowed a dull yellow, lighting up the sharp, looping script on the parchment he was holding. His eyes scanned the page, taking in the information and silently mouthing the words as he read. 

_What played an important part in the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards?_

Merlin frowned in concentration, a headache slowly surfacing.  

 

“You’re going to ruin your eyesight if you keep doing that.”

Merlin glanced up from his stacks of parchment to see his best friend, smiling at him in the dimly lit library. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with long, pale fingers and half-smiling back.

“I’m so behind, Gwen. I can’t afford to slack off now, I've got Charms and Transfiguration homework, a Herbology project to start, I have to go over the Quidditch strategies for tomorrow, and I need to be ready for my exams, and-“ 

“Merlin.”

Guinevere cut him off, and sat down in the chair opposite. “You do know it’s only September, right? Exams are a long way off. You’re starting to sound like a Ravenclaw.” She teased, her kind smile showing, even in the dim light. 

“Well, now you're just being rude.” Merlin stuck out his tongue, teasing back lightly. Sighing, because he was exhausted, and because he knew Gwen was right, he shuffled the stack of notes and books into a slightly neater pile. He stood up and grabbed his pile of work from the wooden table, blinking the impending sleep from his eyes. Gwen smirked, victorious, and led Merlin out of the back of the library, past the scowling librarian, and into the torchlit corridor. 

They walked in silence for a few minutes, no sound except the echoing footsteps in the nearly empty hall, and breathing in the musty smell of parchment that hung in the air, even in the early semester. That was one of the little things Merlin really enjoyed about Hogwarts, it always smelled like parchment and magic and books. Maybe Gwen was right, maybe that was “Ravenclaw” of him, but Merlin didn’t mind. He had long since accepted who he was, clever and confident, sarcastic, and unapologetic for the things he enjoyed and desired. Slytherin, through and through. 

As they got closer to the basements, they made a bit of light conversation, although Gwen could tell Merlin wasn't in the mood. They descended the staircase leading to the Hufflepuff common rooms, and the castle kitchens. They stopped at the stack of barrels that mark the entrance to the common room. Gwen nodded towards the painting of fruit on the opposite wall of the corridor. 

“Are you hungry at all? They elves don’t mind a few of us coming in for a late night snack.” She smiled. Merlin contemplated for a brief moment before shaking his head. 

“No, really Gwen, I’m tired. I’ll just be off. See ya.” He waved at his best friend, and continued down the basement corridor, towards the Slytherin dungeons. One of the upsides of having a best friend in Hufflepuff, was that the two common rooms were extremely close, and Merlin had someone to walk to classes with whenever he needed. Although he didn't always like to admit it, Merlin got quite lonely, and having a friend who was close meant a lot to him. 

 A minute later he was in the common room, his eyes already heavy with sleep. He passed the few fourth-years who were chatting on the dull green sofas in front of the dying hearth. A fellow sixth year nodded approvingly at Merlin as he passed, “Hey Emrys, good luck on the game tomorrow. Knock Pendragon right off his pompous ass!” Merlin half-smiled, covering up the slight intake of air that always accompanied the dreaded name. Pendragon.

A red headed first-year spoke quietly to his friend, eyeing Merlin as he started down the steps to the boys dormitories. 

“That’s ‘im. Our best Chaser. Best in the whole school I’d say, but it’s always a tough game between us and Gryffindor. Bloody Pendragon. I heard from my older brother ‘im and Emrys used to be friends. Can’t say I believe it, the way the run up against each other on the Quidditch pitch. ‘Sides, who would be friends with that arrogant prat?” 

Merlin continued the path to his dormitory, the books and supplies in his hand getting heavier by the moment. Finally, he made it to his dormitory, and flopped down ungallantly on his four-poster bed. Sleep.

As he slipped from consciousness, the first-years words rang through his head. 

“Who would be friends with that arrogant prat?” 

 

Who, indeed?

 

 

_*6 Years Ago*_

 

 

Merlin walked through the forest, enjoying the calm of the nature around him. Every few minutes he turned to look behind him, making sure he wasn’t followed. Once he was confident he was alone, he cupped his hands together and looked hard at them. Concentrating hard, he conjured the image he wanted in his mind. A small red spark appeared, dancing in his palms, then fizzled out after a few seconds. 

Merlin smiled. It was true, his magic was finally showing itself. His father had told him he would start to see signs of it around this age. 

Almost giddy with the light and powerful feeling, he tried conjuring the sparks again. This  time they came back in full force, and he slowly lifted his hands. The red sparks danced higher and higher, until they floated above his head. He stared up at them and laughed, excited by the magic.

 

“That was amazing.” 

 

Merlin spun around, shocked to see two other children behind him. He froze, and felt a rise of panic. 

Muggles. 

“Oh, um. Th-that wasn’t me, uh…”

The girl smiled. “Yes, it was. That was magic!” 

Merlin stood stunned, unsure of what to say. The boy next to the girl seemed to sense his hesitation and fear, and he gave a gentle smile. 

“Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘We aren’t Muggles, we’re wizards. Like you.” 

 

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. The boy stepped forward. He looked to be around Merlin’s age, if not a year or two older. 

“My name is Arthur Pendragon. Who are you?” 

“I’m Merlin.” 

Arthur nodded, “This is my sister, Morgana.” He gestured to the girl beside him. 

If Arthur hadn’t mentioned it, Merlin never would’ve guessed the two were related. Arthur had straight blond hair, warm tanned skin, and a fairly defined jawline, considering his age. Morgana was pale, her face a soft white, with long, wavy raven-black hair. The only similarity that the siblings shared was the small half-smile, and the same look of authority in their bright eyes, Arthur’s a bright blue, his sisters green. 

“I’m the older one though,” Morgana said, crossing her arms and smiling with the confidence of someone who knew she was in charge. Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“Only by a couple of months, Morgana. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, we’re both going to Hogwarts in September.” 

“I’m going next year!” Merlin smiled. “I don’t know much about it, but my uncle is a professor there. It will be nice knowing some other students.” The Pendragon children smiled back at him. 

“Do you want to come back to the house with us?” Morgana offered excitedly, “We’ll tell you everything we know about Hogwarts.”

Merlin hesitated. His mother would be worried if he didn’t come back home soon. But, since his mother was a Muggle herself, she didn’t have much knowledge of the Wizarding world. And Balinor, his father, didn’t see Merlin often, which made it hard for Merlin to ask any questions he had. 

“Come on,’ Morgana insisted. “I won’t take no for an answer.” 

The temptation to find out more about his father’s world was too great. He had never even met other wizard children. Merlin made his choice, and nodded shyly. Morgana turned around and started back the way her and Arthur had come. Merlin looked beside him to catch Arthur staring at him. 

  
“She seems…pretty determined.” Merlin laughed, awkwardly, watching Morgana far ahead of them,  who was turning back and gesturing for them to hurry up. Arthur smiled, and the bright blue of his eyes shone as him and Merlin made eye contact.

 

Merlin gave a shy smile back. “What?” 

Arthur shook his head, a puzzled look on his face. 

“There’s something about you Merlin…’ He paused, trying to find words for what he was thinking. He seemed to find it, and put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. 

“I think you and I are going to be great friends.” 

 

Merlin smiled to himself. He truly hoped so.


	2. First Lesson of Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin gets ready for a Quidditch game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read the first chapter! 
> 
> Each new chapter will *most likely* consist of two parts, a storyline in the present, and one 6 years previously. It should be easy to figure out which is which, but just in case, they will be separated by this *** symbol. 
> 
> Chapter updates will be on Sundays or Mondays. 
> 
> Thanks again!

 

 

Merlin woke up on Saturday morning with a headache. Drowsy, he rubbed his eyes and sighed. 

He had been dreaming about _him._ The memories of his childhood had been playing through his dreams all night. 

Bloody perfect. Having happy memories of Pendragon circling in his head right before an important Quidditch match was the last thing he needed. 

He forced himself to sit up and stretch. The other boys in his dormitory room were still asleep, so he quietly got dressed in his long green Quidditch robes. He slipped out the door, clutching his Cleansweep Seven, and headed up through the Slytherin common room. On his way out he ran into Mordred, the Seeker for their team. 

Mordred greeted him with a smile. Though he was only a fourth year, he was very talented, and had a generous and friendly spirit. He was also fairly humble, a characteristic not found in many of their Slytherin peers. 

“You ready?” Merlin asked. 

Mordred nodded, a look of determination and confidence in his bright blue eyes. Together they headed up to the first floor and met up with Gwen, who was waiting for them. 

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite father and son.” she smirked, winning an eye-roll from Merlin. It was often said that Mordred was Merlin’s mini-me. With messy black hair, pale skin, noticeable blue eyes, and a strong knack for Quidditch, they could easily have been related. 

“Good morning, Gwen.” Mordred answered politely.

“Hmm, who are you supporting today Gwen?” Merlin said sarcastically, pointing out her clothes. Her casual outfit was adorned with green and red accents, including a long banner that was draped around her shoulders. On one side of the banner the Gryffindor lion stalked around, occasionally roaring, mirroring the Slytherin snake on the opposite side. 

Gwen rolled her eyes. “I’m excited, alright? It’s going to be a good match, I know it.”

 

Merlin almost laughed. Every Quidditch match was a good one for Gwen. She was determined to always be supportive, and with an older brother in Gryffindor, a best friend in Slytherin, and a boyfriend in Ravenclaw, Gwen had a lot of practice sharing her loyalty. So she was always happy with the result of the game. 

Eventually they all found themselves in the Great Hall, where the smell of scrambled eggs and fried sausages filled the air, and instantly made Merlin’s stomach growl. 

“I’m going to go wish Elyan luck. See you out there” Gwen gave Merlin a quick hug, and left the two boys to see her brother at the Gryffindor table. Merlin and Mordred made their way to the Slytherin table and eagerly dug into breakfast. The energy in the Great Hall was high, and the morning chatter was louder than usual. 

Just then, the majority of the Gryffindor team entered, loud and obnoxious as ever. Pendragon and his friends raced each other to their house table, playfully shoving and yelling, as if already celebrating their victory. Merlin scowled as he stared at the lot of them, the pure arrogance reaching him from the far side of the Great Hall.

 

Mordred made a noise of irritation. “And they say Slytherins are arrogant.”

Merlin laughed. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Nimueh, their team captain.

“You boys ready?”

“Yes.” Mordred responded instantly, looking down at his breakfast. Nimueh was a girl of extreme confidence and authority, and Merlin suspected Mordred feared her just as much as he respected her. 

‘Good.’ She responded in a soothing tone, her piercing blue eyes flashing. ‘I’ll be counting on you both today, we need this win against Gryffindor if we’re going to start off on the right foot this season.’

 

“We know.” said Merlin, downing the rest of his pumpkin juice. 

 

‘I’ll see you boys out there, then.’ She slowly and delicately traced her fingers across the back of Merlin’s neck, making him shiver. 

‘Especially you, Merlin.” She spoke just above a whisper, then winked and walked away. Merlin exhaled loudly, much to the amusement of Mordred. 

“She still trying to seduce you, then?” He laughed.

Merlin nervously scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. It’s getting harder to say no if I’m being honest.” 

Nimueh _was_ hard to resist. She was gorgeous, with intense blue eyes and long black hair. She was a very skilled witch, and an incredible Quidditch player. She was also a huge flirt, and never took no for an answer.

“Remind me again why you keep saying no?” Mordred stood up from the long table, and put his broomstick on his shoulder. The two boys walked along the Slytherin table, past their fellow students who were still enjoying breakfast. 

Merlin shrugged. “I just… don’t want to get involved, I guess. I mean, yeah, she’s beautiful. But Nimueh uses people, I’ve seen it before. She always gets what she wants, and she doesn’t care who she hurts. And I just… can’t let others have power over me. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.” 

“No, I think I know what you’re getting at.” Mordred replied. He seemed to understand Merlin didn’t want to keep talking about it, so he stayed silent as they neared the Quidditch grounds. 

 Merlin watched Nimueh in the distance, reaching the pitch and talking with the rest of their teammates. 

“Besides,’ he added. ‘I feel like it could get complicated, playing on the same Quidditch team with someone you’re involved with.” 

“Hey, Tristan and Isolde manage to do it.” Mordred pointed out. Merlin nodded in agreement. 

‘It’s different though. They've been together for years, and Isolde definitely isn’t as controlling as Nimueh.’

‘Still, I imagine it’s easier than competing against each other.’ Mordred shrugged. 

Merlin smirked. ‘Yeah. I know I couldn’t do it.”

They found themselves on the Quidditch pitch, meeting the rest of the Slytherin team. Nimueh stood with her hand on her hip, and her Firebolt over her shoulder. 

“I am not going to repeat myself, so listen up. We need to be bloody fast today. Gryffindor prides themselves on being the strongest, but we can fly circles around those prats. Mordred, do not hesitate to pretend you’ve seen the Snitch, and keep their Seeker on your tail. Sophia, Merlin, watch out for those Bludgers. Gryffindor has two new Beaters, Percival and Gwaine, and they are as strong as they are stupid, particularly Percival. They will constantly be hitting the Bludgers towards us. Avoid them. Alright. Everyone understand? Yes? Good. Let’s do this.” 

Fifteen minutes later they had all mounted their brooms and soared into the air, practicing flying as the rest of the school slowly took their seats in the stands. Merlin watched the Gryffindor team arrive on the field, and he caught a glimpse of Pendragon, strutting alongside his arrogant friends. He felt the familiar sensation of his heart racing, and he used it to focus himself. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of the autumn air. He concentrated on the magic that surrounded the pitch, that flowed through him and all of the other students and professors. Slowly, he opened his eyes and stared at Pendragon, who was flying around his side of the pitch. 

It was time to win this match. 

 

 

 

***

It had been a whole month since Merlin Emrys had met Arthur and Morgana Pendragon. Merlin couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had been happier. They knew so much about the Wizarding World, and Merlin was grateful for all he had learned from them. 

He went to his bedroom window and stared out at the rolling fields. Merlin lived in a small Muggle town called Ealdor, which was settled on the outskirts of the English countryside. His mother, Hunith, was a Muggle herself, but Merlin had always known of his magical heritage. He had old memories of his father Balinor showing off his magic, entertaining Merlin and his mother. For the past few years, however, Balinor was constantly busy, and traveled for work. Merlin sometimes found it hard to live in the town, surrounded by normal people, having to keep his magic secret, and never getting any answers to his questions about the Wizarding World. He had to live among Muggles, always knowing there was a bigger, more important part of his existence.

Since meeting the Pendragons, however, Merlin had someone from his own world to talk to. The day that Merlin met the Pendragon children was the very day his magic really started to show. His mother was working, so he had gone to the woods that lay behind his house, away from any prying Muggle eyes. After he had met them, and followed them back through the other side of the trees, they led him to a cozy cottage; where they were staying for a couple weeks that summer. 

Merlin couldn't believe his luck that two wizard children were now in his boring Muggle town. From that day on they would all play together, meeting in the woods and trying to cast spells and practice magic. They would tell Merlin about all sorts of magical creatures, and they would run around among the trees, pretending to chase such beasts. Both Morgana and Arthur clearly had magical abilities, but it was clear that Merlin was more skilled than they were, despite him being younger and ignorant of most of the magical world. Merlin would ask Morgana about wizard history and different spells she knew of. Arthur would go on about a wizard sport called Quidditch, and about the Ministry of Magic where their father worked. They made an unlikely, but pleasant trio. 

Even when they left to go back to London, Merlin still got letters from them, particularly Arthur. He looked forward to Arthur’s letters, which always came by owl, and told of some new adventure he was going on. Arthur was a natural born leader, and Merlin couldn’t help but admire him. He was already quite tall, considering he was only eleven, and he walked in a self-confident, almost regal way. His confidence and sense of fun was irresistible, and Merlin found himself wanting to be just like Arthur. 

Today, Merlin was watching from his window, waiting for the moment where he would see Arthur emerge from the woods. In his latest letter, Arthur had promised that he would be back to Ealdor this week, and that he had something very exciting to show Merlin. Barely able to contain his excitement at the prospect of seeing his friend again, Merlin spent most of his day waiting and watching from his small bedroom. 

Finally, he saw Arthur approaching, waving enthusiastically and holding something behind his back. Merlin ran down the stairs and out of his house so fast he felt like he was flying. Arthur greeted him with a wide smile, and showed Merlin the object he had been hiding. 

 

“My father got this for me last week, isn’t it incredible?” 

Merlin was speechless. It was a beautiful broomstick, with a long mahogany handle, and a tail full of straight, light brown twigs. 

“It’s a Nimbus Two Thousand, Father thinks I should start practicing now with my own broom if I’m to make the Gryffindor Quidditch team.” Arthur proudly said. 

“Arthur it’s… beautiful. Have you ridden it yet?” Merlin asked excitedly. 

Arthur nodded. “Yeah, it’s amazing. I don’t suppose you want to have a go on it, do you?” He smirked. Merlin’s eyes widened. 

“Seriously?” He asked, staring up at Arthur. 

“Of course, you clotpole, that’s why I brought it.” Arthur laughed, holding the beautiful broomstick out for Merlin. Merlin reached out and took it, admiring the lovely craftsmanship. It was the first racing broomstick Merlin had ever held, and he was not disappointed. 

“Well, get on.” Arthur pressed, taking a small step back to give Merlin space. Merlin hesitated, realizing he had no idea what he was doing. Awkwardly, he mounted the broom, surprised by how light and airy it felt. 

“Now just kick off the ground.” Arthur instructed, eyes shining. 

Merlin took a deep breath, and grasped the broom handle tightly. Then, after an encouraging look from Arthur, he kicked off the grass and into the air. 

It was unlike anything Merlin had experienced before. The wind gently blew past him as he effortlessly glided through the air. He felt the broomstick as an extension of himself, he barely needed to guide where he wanted to go. He kept lower to the ground, vaguely aware that Muggles could be watching. He breathed in and out, noticing his heart felt light. He smiled, a feeling of pure joy as he sped through the air. 

After circling around Arthur a few times, he slowed down, and landed roughly. Arthur ran over to him and laughed, putting his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. 

“Merlin, you surprise me. You’re a natural!” 

“Really? You think so?” Merlin beamed at Arthur, passing the broomstick back to him. 

“Really! I can’t wait until we’re on the Quidditch team together. We’ll make Gryffindor proud.” Arthur declared. 

Merlin shook his head, laughing a little. “Oh, I don’t think so. I can’t imagine being good enough for any team, let alone _Gryffindor_.” 

“First lesson of flying Merlin: practice.’ Arthur teased. He offered the broomstick out to Merlin again. 

 

Merlin smiled. 

 


	3. The First Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slytherin and Gryffindor face off in the first Quidditch game of the season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry it's been so long since I last updated. Life happens. 
> 
> This chapter is shorter than usual. I was going to wait until I wrote more but i'd rather have the fic a bit more updated while life continues to be busy. 
> 
> Hoping to update again very soon,
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who has shown interest! It's very much appreciated.

 

 

The whistle blew as the Quaffle was released into the air, and Merlin swiftly scooped it up, pushing past the row of Gryffindors in front of him. He threw it to Sophia, one of the other Chasers on his team. They sped towards the Gryffindor goalposts, where their Keeper, Leon, was standing guard. Merlin glanced behind him, seeing the red streak of the Gryffindor Chasers close behind. Sophia passed the Quaffle back to Merlin, and he set his sights on the tallest hoop. 

 

The sky quickly darkened as rain clouds made their way towards the pitch. Merlin breathed in the scent of approaching rain, and felt the energy around him. This is what Merlin loved to do. The feeling of the wind rushing through his hair, the cheers of the crowd in the stands. Never did he feel more house pride than when he was on the Quidditch pitch, the passion and drive shared among him and his friends, all of them bright green blurs in the sky. 

 

Merlin dodged a Bludger that was shot towards him by one of the Gryffindor Beaters. Nimueh flew over his head, navigating around the left side, getting closer and closer to the Gryffindor goalposts. Merlin launched the deep red Quaffle at Nimueh, who caught it neatly and fired it into the tallest hoop. A cheer erupted from the crowd, particularly the Slytherin side. Merlin smiled as he heard the announcer say: “Ten points to Slytherin!”, and he caught a glimpse of Gwen cheering from the stands. 

 

The ball was put back into play and he sped around the pitch. Gryffindor took possession quickly, and Merlin followed the Chaser who held the Quaffle, Elyan, Gwen’s brother. Elyan’s broomstick was a newer model than Merlin’s, so he quickly pulled ahead. Elyan aimed at Slytherin’s right hoop and shot the Quaffle hard at it. Merlin cheered as Slytherin’s Keeper, Tristan, caught it fast. Tristan sent it back towards Merlin, and Merlin raised his arm, ready to receive it. 

 

A red blur shot in front of him, intercepting the Quaffle and shooting it back at the goalposts. The crowd yelled as Gryffindor gained ten points. Pendragon circled the posts, celebrating his success. Merlin felt a rise of irritation and anger in his chest. He used it to fuel his energy as he fixed his gaze onto Pendragon. 

 

 

Twenty minutes later Gryffindor and Slytherin were tied at 60 points. The dark clouds had finally settled over the pitch and the rain was falling fast and cold. Merlin felt tired and sore but he kept pushing. Slytherin needed him, and nothing made him more powerful than wiping the smug look off Pendragon’s face whenever he lost in Quidditch. 

 

Merlin saw Mordred flying close to the ground, the Gryffindor Seeker close behind him. Merlin watched Mordred with pride; while he wasn’t the team captain, he had still taught Mordred a lot about Quidditch, and couldn’t help but feel like a proud older brother when watching Mordred succeed. 

 

Merlin focused again on the action around him. He didn’t need to worry about Mordred getting the Snitch first; Mordred was quick and resourceful. All Merlin needed to do was make sure Slytherin stayed in the lead. He flew wide, gesturing to Sophia that he was open for the Quaffle. She tossed it to him with a force that contradicted her soft and light appearance. Nimueh shot through a line of Gryffindors, heading straight for their end. She signalled for one of their familiar strategies. Merlin threw her the Quaffle, then dove, flying directly behind her. She flew straight towards Leon, and he hovered in front of the tallest hoop, maintaining strong eye contact with Nimueh. She gently tossed the Quaffle behind her, right into Merlin’s waiting arms. With impressive speed, she ducked out of the way, and Merlin fired the ball into the left hoop, earning a cheer from the crowd. He flew back around the pitch, passing his teammates in celebration. Merlin circled the pitch and made it back to the Slytherin end, meeting up with Tristan.

Gazing into the middle of the action, he saw a Gryffindor take possession of the Quaffle. Though the rain was heavy, he could easily tell who it was. He knew Pendragon’s flight skills anywhere. 

 

Pendragon was barrelling towards the Slytherin side, Quaffle tucked firmly in his grasp. Merlin felt a burst of determination and energy, and shot forward. Pendragon and him were speeding towards each other, directly opposite. Pendragon made no motion to get out of the way, and maintained eye contact with Merlin. 

 

Merlin smirked. So this prat was determined to be the best and bravest, typical Gryffindor arrogance. Well, Merlin thought, He wants to prove he’s the bravest, he’s going to have to fight for it. 

 

He sped up on his Cleansweep, staring straight ahead. Pendragon maintained his precise line towards Merlin, and Merlin almost laughed out loud. First one to move was the coward. He would gladly play this game. The cheer of the crowd seemed to slowly die away, and Merlin heard nothing but the heavy rain, and the quick beating of his heart. The game, the crowd, the other players on the pitch faded away. It was just him and Pendragon. They inched closer, still gaining speed. Pendragon’s look of arrogance shifted to intense purpose. Merlin didn’t flinch as they were within metres of each other. 

 

At the last moment, Pendragon ducked down, Quaffle still in hand. Merlin didn’t have time to silently celebrate. The Bludger that had been closely trailing Pendragon rushed at Merlin, hitting him hard in the side of the head with a loud crack. 

 

Merlin’s felt his fingers slip from his broomstick, as he quickly faded from consciousness. Blurs of grey, green and red surrounded him as he fell, fast and violent. He felt the darkness swallow him, and the last thing he heard was someone calling him from very far away.

 

Merlin! Merlin.

 

Merlin…

 


	4. Farewells and Fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur goes back to London and Merlin starts to write a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> Sorry it's been a while, just a short chapter today.
> 
> There is lots more to come, thank you to everyone who has been interested in my story so far.

 

 

 

 

“Merlin, I’m going to miss you.” 

 

Merlin and Arthur lay in the grass, gazing up at the blue sky. It was late August, the sun was bright and shining. They had just spent hours flying on Arthur’s broomstick, having fun and pretending to be playing Quidditch, Gryffindor Chasers against imaginary Slytherins. They had flopped down, exhausted, and just breathed in the sweet summer air, silently appreciating the presence of one another. They had remained that way for several minutes until Arthur had spoken. 

 

Merlin turned his head to look at his friend. Arthur was still facing the sky, but his eyes were shut, forehead pulled into a slight frown. 

 

Merlin felt a lump rise in his throat. These past several weeks had been amazing. His friendship with Arthur was so easy and comfortable, they had bonded over a knack for Quidditch, and the feeling of an absent father. Arthur's father worked at the ministry in a very high position, and from what Arthur and Morgana had said, he took his role at the Ministry a lot more seriously than his role as a father. 

Merlin sighed, trying to keep the overwhelming emotion at bay. 

"I wish I was going to Hogwarts with you. I can't believe I have to wait a whole year." 

 

Arthur opened his eyes. "I wish you were coming too." He sat up, starting to pick at the bright grass at his feet. 

 

Merlin sensed Arthur was emotional himself, and Merlin was immediately filled with a need to protect him. It wasn't Arthur's problem that Merlin was a year younger, and had to wait his turn. Arthur should not have to feel upset just because Merlin was in pain. 

 

"I'll be fine though." Merlin brushed it off, sitting up. "You can write me every week, and-and you can tell me all about Gryffindor, and the classes, and the Quidditch games, you HAVE to tell me about Quidditch!" 

This seemed to cheer Arthur up slightly, and he grinned. 

"You're right Merlin. You have to write back though, you promise?" 

Merlin nodded and smiled back. 

 

"Thank you Merlin, you're a loyal friend." Arthur remarked. 

Merlin felt his face getting red. He always felt this way whenever Arthur complimented him. At age eleven, Arthur was already a strong, smart and skillful leader, and it surprised Merlin greatly when Arthur thought he was impressive in some way. When they had first started flying practice on Arthur's broomstick, Arthur had constantly complimented Merlins natural abilities. After years of being the shy, lonely kid in the corner, someone who was truly worthy of admiration thought Merlin was worthy too. 

Arthur stood up from the soft grass, and offered Merlin a hand to help him up as well. 

"Don't forget,' Merlin smirked. "You'll still have Morgana." 

Arthur laughed. "That is true. Though she does have a bad habit of getting on my nerves, and also of getting her way."

"Do you think she'll get into Gryffindor too?" Merlin asked, suddenly creating an image in his mind of the three of them, laughing and talking, roaming the corridors of Hogwarts on their way to class. The thought made him smile. 

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "It's very likely. She's one of the most headstrong people I know, and she could easily fit into a house of natural born leaders." 

Merlin nodded in agreement. 

"Although, ' Arthur continued, 'Morgana's mum was a Ravenclaw, so she might end up there." 

Merlin nodded again. Sometimes he forgot that Arthur and Morgana were half-siblings, though it made perfect sense that they only shared a father. They didn't look much alike, and they were only born a few months apart. 

Suddenly, the reality of what Arthur had just said hit him. Merlins eyes widened. 

"Does it really make a difference? Which house your parents came from?" 

 

Arthur laughed, as if amused by Merlin's naivety. 

"Of course Merlin, don't be a dollop head. Think about it. The qualities and values a wizard has usually comes from their families, not to mention their natural magical abilities. Both of my parents were in Gryffindor, and most of the Pendragons before my father. And I have been raised to be a courageous leader, just like him."

 

Merlin's heart started to sink. His mother, being a Muggle, never belonged to a Hogwarts house, and he hardly knew anything about his father, let alone which house he was in at school. 

“What if-what if I’m not in Gryffindor next year?” Merlin replied quietly, the fear creeping into his words. 

Arthur gave Merlin his usual half-smile. “Trust me Merlin, you will be.” Arthur assured him with such confidence and calm authority that Merlin believed him.

 

Almost.

 

 

That night, after Arthur and him had said their farewells, and Arthur left to London, Merlin sat at his desk. By the light of his lamp, he took out a pen and paper, silently wishing it was a parchment and quill. Merlin started to write:

 

_‘Dear Father, I hope you are doing well, and that work is good. I know I have not heard from you in a few months, but I was wondering if you could tell me which Hogwarts house you were in. I’ve heard all about Hogwarts from some friends I’ve-‘_

 

Merlin stopped writing. He wondered if this letter was good enough. He had never had a normal father-son relationship, how could he expect to bother his father about something so silly, just to reassure himself? 

Besides, Merlin thought. He didn’t have an owl, and his mum wouldn’t know how to get in touch with Balinor, unless he had sent a letter himself, or called her on the telephone. 

 

It was useless to write the letter if he didn’t know where to send it. Merlin sighed, folding up the paper and tossing it into the bottom desk drawer. 

It didn’t matter. Not really, anyway. 

 

Just as long as his father had not walked the Hogwarts corridors as a Slytherin.


	5. A Midnight Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin gets visitors in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just a short chapter again today.
> 
> School has started again for me, so unfortunately updates are going to be less frequent, but I am still very excited about this story, and updates WILL continue to happen!
> 
> Thanks again for everyone's interest. :)

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m just so worried about him, you saw how hard that Bludger hit him!”

“Gwen, I know. But he’s going to be fine, I promise. Merlin is one of the strongest people I know.”

“Lancelot is right, Gwen, if anyone can pull through, it’s Merlin.”

 

Merlin very slowly opened his eyes, becoming aware of the pounding headache in the side of his head. He blinked several times, trying to make sense of the blurry shapes in front of him. He moaned loudly, voicing the pain and discomfort flowing through his body. 

The blurry shapes turned to look at him. Slowly they became less distorted, and Merlin recognized the people standing around his hospital wing bed. Gwen, Lancelot, Mordred, Nimueh, and his Uncle Gaius were all staring at him with concerned, but relieved looks. 

 

Gwen leaned forward, gently touching Merlin’s arm.

“Merlin, how are you feeling?”

The kindness and genuine concern in her brown eyes made Merlin smile, despite being in pain.

“I’m fine Gwen, really.” He started to sit up and Gwen dove into action, helping him shift upwards and adjusting his pillows. 

 

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “You’re fine, are you? That’s awfully miraculous, considering you have a serious concussion, a broken arm, and a few broken ribs.” 

Merlin looked away from Gaius’s gaze. He knew Merlin too well, it was nearly impossible to hide anything from Gaius. 

“Alright, I _will_ be fine. They’ll have me fixed up in no time, don’t worry Gaius.” 

Gaius narrowed his eyes, but spoke with slight amusement. “That’s _Professor_ Gaius to you, Mr Emrys.”

 

Merlin started to laugh, then stopped when he realized how much it hurt. 

“What happened, anyway?” He frowned, trying to make sense of the rainy blurs in his memory. 

“Bloody Pendragon. He _knew_ that Bludger was trailing him and he led it straight to you.” Nimueh scowled, leaning on her broomstick. Merlin noticed that her and Mordred were still in their green Quidditch robes. 

“You fell from your broomstick pretty hard.” Mordred added. 

 

“How long have I been out?” Merlin asked, noticing the dim sky through the clear windows. 

“A few hours.” Gwen replied. 

“And the rest of the match?”

“Cancelled.” said Lancelot. “Sorry, mate.” 

The hospital wing matron came over, checking over Merlin now that he was conscious. She passed him a bright purple potion, and Merlin downed it in one gulp, trying not to taste it. 

“We should leave you to rest.” Gaius said softly. Merlin was about to argue that they didn’t have to go, but the potion was already taking effect. He started to feel lighter and heavier at the same time, and the concept of sleep seemed irresistible. 

Mordred gently put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, and gave a quick nod of respect and kindness. “Feel better Merlin.” 

Nimueh leant forward, pushing past Mordred with such elegance it was almost unnoticed.  She stroked Merlin’s pale arm with her long red nails. “Get some rest, we need you in top condition for the next match.” She winked and confidently strode out of the hospital wing. 

 

Gwen sighed. “Does she _ever_ turn it off?” 

Mordred laughed. “Not when it comes to Merlin.”

Merlin smiled awkwardly, making Lancelot chuckle. “Merlin, you’re a brave man.” He stood up, putting his arm around Gwen’s shoulders.

“You sure you’ll be all right?” Gwen asked, bending down and giving Merlin a gentle hug. 

 

“Don’t worry about me, Gwen. I can take care of myself.” 

Merlin’s last comment earned a disbelieving snort and eye-roll from Gaius. Merlin ignored him and stared up at his friends and favourite professor, his eyes already heavy with sleep. He lifted his arm up with great effort and waved at them. 

They all walked toward the door, Mordred muttering to Gwen and Lancelot. “I’ve got half a mind to curse that damned Pendragon.”

“I better not have heard that.” Gaius warned Mordred, turning back and smiling at Merlin. 

Merlin laughed to himself as he watched his friends go. The pain in his head and body was subsiding now, and he felt warm, safe and content as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep. 

 

Merlin woke a few hours later. The sky outside was dark, and the hospital wing was dim, save for a few lit torches. 

He struggled to sit up, still in pain, though not as intense as before. Merlin looked into the shadows of the large room, starting to get the sense that he wasn’t alone. He squinted, trying to make sense of the dark shape. He reached over to his bedside table, and grabbed his wand, pointing it towards the dark corner.

“Who’s there?” 

He received no answer, although he could hear a soft breathing. Merlin gripped his wand tighter. 

“I’m warning you, prat.” 

After a few moments, the figure slowly stepped into the dim light. 

 

Tall, and wearing a dark red jumper that outlined his defined chest, the blonde boy made eye contact with Merlin, lifting his hands slightly in a mock surrender. 

 

“What the hell are _you_ doing here?” Merlin sat up straighter, raising his wand a little, ignoring the pain in his body. Arthur Pendragon stepped closer, a look on his face that Merlin could only describe as embarrassment. It quickly turned to a look of irritation. 

 

“Look, I’m sorry if I woke you, I-“

“Came to finish the job?’ Merlin cut him off, scowling. ‘Or maybe you just came to gloat.” 

“Shut up, would you?” Pendragon snapped. “I just came to apologize. I swear I didn’t know that Bludger would hit your head, and, well… people were saying things. Rumours that you’d almost _died_.” Although he tried to keep his face emotionless, Merlin recognized concern in Pendragon’s blue eyes. Merlin frowned, not just in anger, but in confusion.  

There was almost a vulnerability in Pendragon’s face but Merlin quickly dismissed it. 

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time you bought into some stupid rumour.’ Merlin’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘As you can see, I’m _fine_. No thanks to you.”

“Listen, Emrys,’ Pendragon continued. ‘What I did on the pitch today was...unfair. And shameful.” 

“Two words that describe a   _Slytherin,_ wouldn’t you say?”  Merlin spat.

Pendragon sighed. “I didn’t say that.” 

“You implied it.” Merlin said, not quite sure where the aggression inside him was coming from. Pendragon was visibly angry now.

“Listen, I’m just trying to do the honourable thing here.” Pendragon crossed his arms, making his already broad stature more intimidating. 

“Oh, well that should be easy for you, being a faultless _Gryffindor_ and all.”

 

Merlin stood up now, still in pain but with anger and adrenaline coursing through him. 

“I don’t need your pity, Pendragon, and I certainly don’t need to be responsible for making you feel like a perfect prince again.” 

Merlin kept his wand fixed on Pendragon. Pendragon had pulled his wand out too, but kept it pointed at the ground.

“You should go. Wouldn’t want to be seen _consorting_ with a Slytherin, now would you?” Merlin snapped, his words full of the sarcasm he was so practiced in.

“Fine.” Pendragon spat, tucking his wand back into his pocket and storming out of the hospital wing, not looking back.

 

Merlin stood there for a minute, staring into the shadowed corridor that Pendragon disappeared into. His breathing slowed and he was left standing in disbelief and pain, now that the adrenaline and anger had subsided. He sighed and shuffled back to his bed, laying down with groans of pain. 

Merlin found it hard to go back to sleep, his mind was racing for several minutes. The absolute _nerve_ of Pendragon. Not a damn word spoken between them for over five years, and he just bursts into his room in the middle of the night, full of regret? Playing the part of the honourable prince, the humble hero? 

 

Just what was Pendragon trying to prove?

'Well,' Merlin thought, 'I’m not playing along. I don’t owe him anything. 

He turned uncomfortably onto his side, and hours later was still trying to wrap his head around the confusing visit from his childhood friend.

Even more confusing though, was the small part of him that kept replaying the look of concern in Pendragon’s eyes, and the way it made him feel inside his chest. Warm, familiar, and safe.


	6. Short Letters, Shorter Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur sends his first letter from Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, just a short chapter today,  
> Lots more to come, don't worry! 
> 
> Thanks.

 

 

 

 

Merlin lay on his small bed, hands folded on his chest and eyes staring mindlessly at the ceiling. It was a full week into September now, and Merlin was anxiously waiting for Arthur’s letter. The first of many, he hoped. 

Merlin turned his gaze to his school bag in the corner. His Muggle bag full of boring Muggle homework from his boring Muggle school. He gave a long sigh, starting to worry that Arthur had forgotten about him, and that his letter was never coming.

Not a full minute later there was a sharp tapping at his window. He got out of bed quickly, and smiled when he saw the source of the tapping. A light brown barn owl with a letter attached to his foot. Merlin slid the window open, and watched in amazement as the owl flew once around his small bedroom, and landed neatly on his desk, the leg with the scrolled up paper lifted towards Merlin. He cautiously reached for the letter, untied it from the patient owl and excitedly unrolled it. He sat down on his bed, deep blue eyes scanning the parchment.

 

_“Merlin,_

_You won’t believe how amazing Hogwarts is, I know you would’ve loved the first night._

 

_Gryffindor is everything I thought it was going to be. Already I have made strong friends, many from families I know, so I know that they are going to be loyal and brave. I met a fellow first year, his name is Leon. Our fathers worked together at the Ministry, and he loves Quidditch too. I think you would like him too._

 

_Morgana got into Ravenclaw, but she still seems happy about it. I’m sure she can’t wait to be smarter than me so she can best me in our arguments._

_The classes are nothing like the games you and Morgana and I played. They are serious and hard and my father is already pressuring me to have great marks. He’s also told me to stay away from any Slytherins, and I can see why he says that. They all seem awful and arrogant, and Leon told me that they cheat in Quidditch._

_I’m sorry this letter is so short, but I haven’t had much time to myself. I really wish you were here with Morgana and I, you’re better at magic than a lot of my classmates._

 

_I’ll write to you soon,_

 

_Arthur Pendragon”_

 

 

 

 

_***_

 

It had been two weeks since Pendragon had visited Merlin in the dead of night, and Merlin was no closer to figuring out why he had. Merlin was trying hard to dismiss what happened, but he found himself replaying those few minutes in the dim hospital wing.

The morning after his first night in hospital, Gwen and Lancelot came to visit. Merlin wanted to tell Gwen of the interaction he had with the Gryffindor, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to say it. 

 

Today was a Saturday, and he was in the library with Gwen and Lancelot, poring over parchments and books. It had been relatively quiet, save for the few flirty jokes made between the couple. After a while, Gwen broke the silence.

 

“Merlin, you know my friend Freya, right?”

 

“Not really.” 

 

“She’s a 5th year, Hufflepuff. Dark hair, kind of shy?”

 

Merlin tried to picture the girl Gwen had been describing but found it difficult. He had, after all, been busy thinking about Pendragon. Gwen noticed Merlin was lost inside his head and she waved a hand in front of his face, to the amusement of Lancelot. 

“ _Anyway_ , Freya and I were chatting in the common room yesterday, and I’m pretty sure she fancies you.” She gave a smile, her brown eyes shining. 

 

“And?” Merlin sighed, scratching notes with his quill. 

 

“Oh, _come on_.’ Gwen shoved Merlin’s arm playfully and rolled her eyes. ‘You’ll like her. She’s smart and sweet, and you could just see where it goes.” 

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“You shouldn’t pressure him, Gwen. Besides, he’s still got _Nimueh_ to deal with.” Lancelot smirked, trying to stifle a laugh. 

 

“It’s not like _that_ with her. I’m not interested.” Merlin looked up from his parchments to give his friend a disapproving look. 

 

“Great. So then you’re free to see Freya.” Gwen said, matching her boyfriend’s smirk. 

 

Merlin rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help admiring Gwen’s insistence. “I’ll think about it, okay?” 

 

Satisfied, Gwen went back to her notes, and Lancelot and Merlin shared a look. Merlin leaned back in his chair and stretched his long arms, surprising himself with a yawn. 

“I’m gonna head back to my common room.’ He stood up, starting to gather his books.

 

“You sure?” Lancelot asked.

 

“Yeah,’ Merlin yawned again. ‘If I’m going to be well enough to start Quidditch again next week, I’ll need to catch up on my sleep.” 

 

“Get some rest then.” Gwen nodded. 

 

“See you at dinner.” Merlin gave a half smile and wandered out of the library, passing  several Ravenclaw girls, who were sitting cross-legged in a circle, sharing notes and passing around Liquorice Wands. 

 

The mid-afternoon sun was shining brightly, streaming in from the high glass windows along the corridor. There were lots of students hanging about, most of them in casual clothes. The surprisingly warm September air was making Merlin drowsy, and he felt his mind wandering as he slowly walked along, holding his few books. 

 

He entered a stretch of corridor that was deserted, except for the statues of armour along the wall. Enjoying the brief solitude, he started to hum a song, an old tune from his childhood. He then turned a corner and bumped straight into something solid, dropping his books. 

 

“Sorry, that was my fault, I-“ Merlin stopped in the middle of bending down to grab his books, looking up to see the person he had bumped into. He made eye contact with Arthur Pendragon and straightened up, books left on the floor.

Pendragon seemed just as surprised as Merlin did that they had collided. Merlin frowned, irritated.  

 

“Never mind. _Accio_.” Merlin pulled his wand out and used a Summoning Charm, his books flying neatly into his arms. He stepped around Pendragon, avoiding his gaze. 

 

“Hey… uh, Emrys. Wait.”

 

Merlin stopped and sighed, turning around and facing Pendragon. They were both tall, nearly the same height, staring eye to eye. Pendragon wore an expression of hesitation, and something else that Merlin couldn’t quite name. 

 

“How are you? Your injuries, I mean.” He asked.

 

Merlin looked around in a mocking, overdramatic way. “Oh, so you’re talking to me in broad daylight now?” His words dripped with sarcasm, trying to get under Pendragon’s skin.

Instead of the instant anger and irritation Pendragon had displayed on that night in the hospital wing, his expression remained calm. He did, however, glance around the corridor, checking for students or professors passing by. 

 

“Look, Emrys. I meant what I said before. I’m sorry you got hurt.”

 

Merlin was at a loss for words, which was a rare occasion. He stood, staring intently at Pendragon, trying to read his face for some kind of clue. A hint, a flicker of something that would explain what he was trying to do. 

 

“And I meant what _I_ said before, I don't need your pity.” 

 

“Merlin.” Pendragon raised his voice slightly louder, frustrated. The Gryffindor’s use of his first name made Merlin's breath stop for a moment. Pendragon stared past Merlin, at the approaching footsteps. He lowered his voice and continued.

 

“Listen…if things were different…if-if I wasn’t… a Gryffindor…”

 

“What?” Merlin sighed.

 

“Well, I’d expect we’d get on. We would be friends.”

 

Merlin laughed, sarcastic and cold. He held his books tighter to his chest and spoke softly. 

 

“That’s the worst part of it, Pendragon. We _were_.” 

 

With that, Merlin turned away and headed down the corridor, quick footsteps echoing off the stone walls. 

 


	7. Potions Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin attends Potions class, and has an unexpected meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and liked my story, please feel free to keep doing so!

 

 

 

“…Now please make sure to follow the directions _carefully._ Each ingredient must be put in the correct order, or there could be _dire consequences_.” Professor Gauis raised an eyebrow as he made eye contact with his students. 

 

Merlin and Lancelot shared a look, smirking to each other. They knew Gauis was serious about being cautious, but he tended to be a little overdramatic when it came to teaching the class. As the years went on, and Potions class became more challenging, Gauis’s dramatic flair increased, and they both found that amusing. 

The Potions classroom was already warm and humid, the sixth year Ravenclaws and Slytherins gathering ingredients, preparing for a Double Potions class. Merlin and Lancelot settled in the back of the classroom, under a well lit corner, placing a shared cauldron on their table. 

Occasionally, Merlin got dirty looks from other Slytherins when he would pair up with Lancelot. He was, after all, from a different house, and the possibility of helping him to succeed was practically taboo for a Slytherin. Some Slytherins likely assumed Gauis favourited Ravenclaws, being an alumni of the house himself. However, being a talented member of the Quidditch team gave Merlin a certain amount of respect, and for the most part he didn’t feel judged by his peers for choosing to learn alongside his friend. 

 

Merlin’s friend opened the textbook to their assigned page, “Draught for Peace”. With the scraping of cauldrons and Gauis’s voice in the background, Merlin and Lancelot set to work. About ten minutes into crushing their porcupine quills into powder, Lancelot spoke. 

“So, I feel I should warn you…” He started.

“Hmm?” Merlin was half listening, tracing a long finger down the page, mentally checking off the ingredient list. 

“Gwen’s planning to ambush you at lunch, with Freya.” Lancelot whispered in a serious tone, but his amusement was obvious. 

Merlin looked up, paying attention now. “Is she really?” 

Lancelot nodded, practically giggling. 

Merlin groaned. “I don’t know why she’s insisting on this.” 

Lancelot finished powdering the moonstone. “Oh, she just wants you to be happy, you know Gwen.” 

“I am happy.” Merlin argued. 

"All right. _Happier_ , then.” Lancelot said.

“It’s really not necessary.” Merlin shrugged, adding the powdered moonstone to the cauldron, watching for the green colour that was expected. 

“I know, and Gwen knows that too. It’s just… you seem distracted lately, not yourself.” 

“Since when?” Merlin started stirring the potion. 

“Since your fall in that Quidditch match, actually.” 

“Hmm. And how did you come to that conclusion?” 

“Well, Gwen and I have talked about it. Quite a bit actually, you know how she worries about you.” Lancelot added more powdered moonstone to the potion. 

“Well, it’s nice to know I’m so popular among my friends.” Merlin answered sarcastically. 

“Honestly Merlin, it wouldn’t hurt to meet her. I agree with Gwen, you guys would do well together.” 

 

“Less chit-chatting boys, more potion making.” Gaius passed by their table, narrowing his eyes at their simmering cauldron. Lancelot nodded in respect as the Professor continued circling the class. 

 

Merlin lowered his voice slightly. “I didn’t say I _wasn’t_ going to meet her. I’m allowed to complain about it, that’s all.” 

“I’d expect nothing less.” Lancelot smirked, and the two friends laughed softly, earning a disapproving look from Gauis. 

 

Over an hour later, Merlin and Lancelot left the Potions classroom, heading down the staircase towards the Great Hall. While Merlin wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of being set up by Gwen, he appreciated the fact that the whole event left little room in his head for Pendragon. In fact, Merlin hadn’t thought about him for the past few hours. Life had been back to normal, he had enjoyed a challenging class with his favourite Professor, and had good conversation with one of his two best friends. He was much more content when he wasn’t preoccupied with thoughts of Pendragon. Much more himself. 

They reached the Great Hall and Lancelot gave Merlin an encouraging clap on the shoulder, following him through the doorway.

 

The Great Hall was filled with students and the smell of hot food. Merlin found himself looking instinctually over to the Gryffindor table, then quickly glanced away. Lancelot nudged Merlin with his elbow, nodding towards an advancing Gwen, and a girl Merlin assumed to be Freya. 

 

“Boys.’ Gwen smiled as she met them. ‘Freya, Merlin. Merlin, this is Freya.” 

“Hi.” Merlin nodded, smiling politely at Freya. She smiled shyly back, looking up at Merlin with soft brown eyes. 

 

Gwen was right, Freya _was_ very pretty. She had long, dark wavy hair, light skin and a gentle smile. They had barely made eye contact before Gwen took Lancelot by the arm, and mumbled some quick excuse as they left Freya and Merlin alone. 

 

“It’s nice to meet you.” Merlin continued, slightly awkwardly. 

“You as well.” She responded. 

 

They stood in awkward silence for a minute, Merlin desperately searching his head for some witty comment, surprised to find nothing. 

 

“Would you want to meet up later?’ Freya asked in a gentle Irish accent. ‘Only I feel like we have an audience right now.” She gave a nod towards the Hufflepuff table, where Merlin could see Gwen staring at them with a cheesy grin on her face. Merlin laughed, relieved that she too had noticed the pressure from their friend, and nodded in agreement.

 

 

 

That evening, Merlin went to his common room very content. His quick conversation with Freya at lunch had been interesting, and Gwen had been right, she was very much his type. There was an instant attraction, and he met up with her again after his afternoon classes of Transfiguration and Herbology. 

 

Freya was initially a little shy, but very smart and sweet. He was impressed when she said she was learning how to be an Animagus, specifically a panther, and he found her gentle spirit attractive. 

 

Merlin settled into one of the large sofas, pulling out his books and rewriting his Transfiguration notes. A few minutes into studying he noticed Mordred walking out from the boys dormitories. Mordred saw him and joined him on the sofa, stretching and yawning. 

 

“Chocolate Frog?” Mordred offered one to Merlin, who took it eagerly.

“Thanks.”

 

“Ready for Quidditch practice tomorrow?” Mordred asked, examining his collectors card. 

 

Merlin snorted. “Ready is an understatement. It’s been a nightmare not being able to play.” 

 

“Well, it’s been a nightmare not having you in practice. Nimueh has us doing twice as many drills, and she’s been way more demanding than usual.” Mordred complained. 

 

Isolde and Tristan had come into the common room, Isolde flopping down on the sofa opposite Merlin and Mordred. 

“She’s just frustrated that she can’t hit on Merlin if he’s not at practice.” She teased, playing with her long blonde braid. Mordred laughed, and Tristan nodded in serious agreement. 

 

Merlin stretched his long arms, and finished his Chocolate Frog. 

“Well, she can hit on me all she likes, if that means I get to play Quidditch again.”


	8. Butterbeer and Banter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin waits in The Three Broomsticks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Sorry it has been so long since I last updated, I had university exams and essays to get through, and I haven't had much time to write. 
> 
> This is another short chapter, but I'm hoping to update longer chapters in the future. I am still excited to be writing this story, and I will continue to update for as long as I can. 
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone's interest, as always, please feel free to leave a comment, they are always appreciated.

 

 

 

 

 

“How did this happen?” 

 “Do you mean how did you get roped into a double date in Hogsmeade with me and Gwen?”

 “Yes, that’s the one.” 

 “Because you can’t say no to Gwen.” 

 Merlin sighed, smirking. “Oh yes, that’s right.”

 “C’mon, it’s not like you're not going to have fun.” 

 “I _know_. I just feel like I’ll be more awkward than usual if I have you two staring at us over our Butterbeers.” 

 Merlin’s comment was met with a laugh from Lancelot. The two friends were sitting in the Library, going over Potions homework. It was well into October now, and Merlin was happy to be completely healed from the Quidditch match. Slytherin had played two games since Merlin had recovered, one against Hufflepuff, which they won, and one against Ravenclaw, which they lost. 

Lancelot, being a Chaser on the Ravenclaw team, enjoyed besting Merlin in a match or two. Lancelot was never one to be arrogant, however there was always a pride in him about succeeding in Quidditch. He was a Muggleborn, though he had a relative who was a witch. He knew of the wizarding world, and had dreamed of playing Quidditch at Hogwarts. Lancelot was met with some prejudice, even in the Ravenclaw house, and had worked extremely hard for years to get on the Quidditch team. So, Merlin put up with Lancelot’s occasional teasing, knowing that it came from a place of confidence that his friend needed. 

 “Do you want to meet there a little earlier?’ Merlin asked, growing increasingly bored of their homework. “Maybe down a few Butterbeers before I’m supposed to _impress_ my date.”

 He said the words with a hint of sarcasm, a poor attempt at masking the actual anxiety and awkwardness he felt about the quickly approaching afternoon. 

“Sorry, mate.’ Lancelot replied. ‘I wanted to send a letter to my parents. You can come with me to the Owlery if you’d like.”

 Merlin contemplated briefly, then shook his head. “No, I think I’ll just meet up with you in Hogsmeade. Three Broomsticks?” He asked, packing away his scrolls of parchment and Potions textbook. 

“Yeah. See you in an hour.”

 

 

 

 

Merlin entered The Three Broomsticks, grateful for the warmth after the walk over in the chilly October air. It was surprisingly empty, considering it was a Hogsmeade weekend for the students; only a few Hufflepuffs were gathered at a corner table, and one or two older Hogsmeade inhabitants were sipping Firewhiskies. He breathed the cold air out of his lungs with a deep sigh, and took a moment to soak up the sweet smell of the pub; old cedar wood and a hint of the butterscotch that Butterbeers tasted of. He made his way towards the bar at the back of the pub, unravelling his green and silver scarf from his neck and taking a seat at one of the barstools. The bartender, an older man with an impressive beard, came up to Merlin to take his order. “Butterbeer, please.”

 

“Make that two.”

 

Merlin turned behind him, watching as Arthur Pendragon walked over and sat on the dark wooden stool next to him. He stared wordlessly at Pendragon, feeling a mixture of confusion and something else. 

“Can I… help you?” Merlin asked, voice intending to be snappy, but coming out with surprise and amusement. 

 “Not at all.” Pendragon answered, a brief but visible smile accompanying his words.  

 Merlin stared at him, silently, slightly in shock. The bartender placed the two glass mugs of Butterbeer on the bar counter. Pendragon picked up the glass closest to him and took a long drink.

“Good job on that match against Hufflepuff.” Pendragon said, softly but clearly. 

 Merlin slowly started to look around at the rest of the pub, almost waiting for the rest of the Gryffindor team to jump out and start laughing along with Pendragon. 

“Er.. Are you lost?” 

 “Not at all.” 

Merlin studied Pendragon’s face, searching for sarcasm, or hostility. Surprisingly, he only found a subtle teasing, but it didn’t come across as aggressive. Pendragon took another gulp of his drink, Merlin’s own drink left untouched in his surprise. 

 “It was good to see you on the pitch again, after your fall.” 

 “No thanks to you.” Merlin snapped back, grateful to find his footing in this familiar rivalry again. 

 Pendragon did not respond with an insult, but instead gave a quick and grave nod, agreeing with Merlin’s words. Merlin scanned the Gryffindor’s expression and found…guilt? Pendragon stared at his glass of ever shrinking Butterbeer, bright blue eyes intense. 

 Merlin felt uneasy. He had not been in the presence of Pendragon alone, in public, like this in years, and it made his chest feel tighter than he cared to admit. He looked around the pub again, but it was just as empty as it had been before, no one taking any notice of the Gryffindor and Slytherin sitting side by side. 

 Pendragon started to speak. “Look, Emrys… I -“ 

“Will you stop?” Merlin cut in. 

Pendragon looked up from his now empty glass, slightly miffed to be interrupted. “What?”

 “Will you stop? If I…’ Merlin breathed a heavy sigh, concentrating on not rolling his eyes, ‘If I… _forgive_ you. For the match. Will you stop _following me_?” 

 Arthur Pendragon smiled. A small smile, but real and rare all the same. Merlin had not seen that from Pendragon in a long time, at least not any that were directed towards him. It gave him a familiar drop low in his stomach, which brought patches of red to his usually pale face. 

 

“Deal.” Pendragon nodded once, and started to get up from the dark barstool. He pulled four silver Sickles from his trouser pocket. He laid the coins on the bar counter, nodding to the bartender. 

 

“It’s on me.” 

 

Merlin opened his mouth to argue, to make some snide comment about the prat’s “royal privilege,” but his words were stopped abruptly as those piercingly bright eyes met his own deep blue ones. Pendragon’s voice dropped, low and soft, but still audible.

 “I insist.” 

With that, Pendragon left The Three Broomsticks.

The whole exchange between them was probably less than three minutes, but it spawned a million thoughts and questions in Merlin, thoughts that would occupy his mind for several hours afterward. Merlin stared at the door that Pendragon had exited for several minutes, Butterbeer still left untouched. He stared so long, in fact, that he saw Gwen, Lancelot and Freya enter the pub, all enjoying a rather amusing conversation, if Gwen’s laugh was anything to go by. Merlin shook his head, as if physically trying to get rid of the memory of the exchange he had just had with Arthur Pendragon, and waved at his friends and date. 

 

They saw him and joined him at the bar, Freya looking slightly shy, but lovely in a deep red jumper, which complemented her dark hair and soft brown eyes nicely. 

 

“Started without us, I see.” Gwen teased, nodding towards the empty Butterbeer glass next to Merlin’s full one. Pendragon’s glass. 

Merlin stared at the glass himself, mouth open, searching for an explanation that wouldn’t sound insane.

He just shrugged and laughed, offering his full glass to Freya, who smiled in thanks. Merlin caught Gwen sharing a satisfied smirk with Lancelot, knowing it meant ‘I taught him well’. Merlin caught her eye and gave her a knowing look, almost as if she had said the words out loud. Surely Gwen knew she couldn’t hide anything from Merlin. They knew each other too well. With this thought, however, Merlin felt a sudden rise in guilt. It was true that he and Gwen knew everything about each other, and were as close and as comfortable with one another as two friends could be. But it was almost with a heavy heart Merlin realized that this… thing that was happening between him and Pendragon, was not just conflicting his emotions and confusing his thoughts.

 

It was also the first secret he had ever kept from Gwen.


	9. Another Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin re-reads a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the continued likes, comments, and support! I'm really proud of this story so far and I can't wait to finish it.   
> Short chapter, please enjoy.

 

 

Merlin gave a long sigh as he closed his Maths textbook. Midway through November his experience at his Muggle school had not been enjoyable. While he was forced to learn these irrelevant things, Arthur and Morgana were at Hogwarts, learning magic and spells and things Merlin couldn't possibly imagine, all while being surrounded by their own fellow wizards and witches. Merlin frowned, full of envy, and missing his friends terribly.

During evenings like this he would often lay in his bed, stare at his ceiling and wonder how two wizard children who he had known for only a few months could have such an impact on him. Especially Arthur. He looked forward to those letters from Arthur more than anything else.

Merlin picked up his History papers, stared at them for a minute, and then tossed them back on his desk. He opened his bottom drawer and pulled out Arthur's latest letter, the fifth one he had sent, and the one Merlin had read and reread countless times. He unfolded the now worn parchment edges and smiled.

 

_November 1_

_"Dear Merlin, I can't believe I have been at Hogwarts for two whole months already. It feels like I just arrived, and yet I have been here for weeks._

_The Gryffindor team is in the lead for the Quidditch cup, after only four games! The matches are really fun to watch, but first years are almost never allowed on the team, so my father's been writing me, telling me to practice in my free time, so I make the team by next year._

_The only good friend I've actually made is Leon, and already we have had to face off some nasty Slytherins. During our third Potions class with the Slytherins, a couple of them ruined our Potion by throwing in all of the wrong ingredients, almost blowing up the entire classroom! After the class about four of them chased us down the corridor; trying to cast curses at us. Naturally we stood our ground and Professor Gauis quickly came by and got them in trouble. I would have loved for you to celebrate our victory with us (although if we had you and your strong magic abilities we could have done much more damage to them)._

_It hasn't all been great though. I am struggling to find my place a little in Gryffindor. I had expected to feel more at home, and to have an easier time making friends. Of course I didn't expect to be head of Gryffindor house my first year, but it's been a lot harder than I thought, both in the classes and socially. It is times like these I really wish you were here in Gryffindor with me. Already I am seeing Morgana less and less, from her making new friends and being busy in Ravenclaw._

_I'll write you again at Christmas. Father is going to be on an important business trip for the Ministry, so Morgana and I have to stay at Hogwarts during the holidays. Feel free to use my owl to write back, just attach your letter to his leg, and he will know to come back to Hogwarts._

_Hoping I hear from you soon,_

_Arthur Pendragon"_

 

Merlin finished reading the letter, folding it ever so carefully and replacing it in his drawer. He sat, folding his hands and placing them under his chin, thinking. How brave of Arthur, to take on those Slytherins. They certainly sounded like nasty pieces of work. It also pleased him to hear his Uncle Gaius had been the professor to step in and punish them, though Merlin had never met him before. And Merlin had indeed responded to Arthur's letter, grateful for more clear instructions on how to get in touch with him. It had been more than two weeks since he sent his reply, and he was anxiously waiting for Christmas to come, mostly to hear from Arthur.

His thoughts were interrupted as his mother called him down for dinner. As Merlin got up from his desk to go downstairs, he couldn't help smiling at the thought of Arthur's words.

"I really wish you were here in Gryffindor with me."

_"With me."_


	10. The Second Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryffindor and Slytherin have a rematch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thank you to everyone who has read, liked, and commented on my story. I hope you're enjoying reading it, as much as I enjoy writing it!  
> I will try to make my updates a little more frequent, though this means likely having slightly shorter chapters.
> 
> Please feel free to make comments or ask questions,
> 
> Enjoy!!

 

 

 

 

Merlin started to pull his green robes over his head, the faint smell of sweat and sunshine lined in the Quidditch uniform. As he pulled them past his stomach, he absently brushed his ribcage, as though checking for any lasting pain from the injuries he had weeks ago. There was none of course, just a faint grey bruising. 

Merlin sighed, softly breathing out his anxieties. He checked the elegant, black and silver clock in his dormitory wall, noting he was expected on the pitch in less than an hour. He sat back down on his four poster bed, pulling on his black shin-guards and shoes. The other three boys in his dormitory were already gone, so Merlin hummed pleasantly, an old habit he had picked up, a method of calming himself. Grabbing his broomstick from under his green four-poster, he walked out the door, heading along the short corridor that led to the large Slytherin common room. 

As he walked through the mostly deserted common room, he focussed on the plays and strategies they had gone over that week in practice. He needed to be completely ready to go, today’s game against Gryffindor was a rematch of the unfinished one from the start of term. 

He heard quick, gentle footsteps behind him, and felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Nimueh, decked out in her own green and silver robes, black hair formed neatly into a long french braid. 

“Hey, you. Ready to spin circles around Gryffindor today?” She asked in her usual soothing tone.

 “Of course.” 

They continued out of the Slytherin dungeons together, in silence. Merlin could see Nimueh thinking hard, through the corner of his eye. His response had been pretty dismissive. Final. A response she certainly wasn’t used to. 

 

She smirked, lips in a mock pout. 

“So I hear you’ve been hanging out with that _Hufflepuff girl_.”

Merlin bit his lip to keep from laughing, as they ascended the staircases leading to the ground floor. Nimueh was anything but subtle. 

“News travels fast around here.” Merlin said, holding back a smirk.

Nimueh gave a little laugh, as silky sounding as her voice, ever so gently brushing her hand on his shoulder. 

“Well, I hope you're not letting yourself get _too_ distracted.”

The reached the Great Hall, the welcoming smell of breakfast filling the vast room. 

“Oh, you won’t have to worry about that, I can handle any _distractions_ that come my way.” Merlin replied. 

 

Nimueh gave a quick, twisted smile, sensing a tone of rejection, but clearly not giving up anytime soon. They were thankfully interrupted by Gwen, who all but dragged Merlin to the Hufflepuff table, gently shoving a plate of food in front of him. Merlin dug in, eating quickly and lost in thought. 

His seat at the Hufflepuff table gave him a clear view of the Gryffindor table, and he found himself staring at the Gryffindor team, watching Pendragon eating and chatting with his fellow house members. Merlin watched as someone made Pendragon laugh, a loud, unapologetic laugh that threw his blond head back and showed a brilliant smile. Merlin’s stomach unexpectedly felt tight and he breathed in sharply, assuming it was because of his quick pace of eating.

Suddenly, Pendragon turned from his friends, catching Merlin’s eye. Pendragon smiled again - the small, subtle smile he had given him in The Three Broomsticks - before turning back to his friend’s conversation. The action was so quick, if Merlin had blinked he would’ve missed it. But he hadn’t. He had caught it, clear as day. 

 

“Merlin.” He felt a hand on his shoulder. He felt his face getting red, realizing he had been holding his breath. 

“Are you okay?” Gwen asked him, slightly concerned. Merlin nodded, snapping himself back to reality. He stood, dropping his unfinished toast back on his plate, and picking up his broomstick. He turned to the entrance of the Great Hall and saw Mordred, Nimueh, Sophia and Cenred walking out. He said a quick goodbye to Gwen and hurried to catch up to his teammates. 

Merlin followed them across the grounds, tuned out to the conversation between Sophia and Nimueh.

What the hell had that been, with Pendragon? That moment was so quick, so unexpected, and achingly _familiar_. He sighed, breathing out frustration. The whole point of “forgiving” him had been to make things go back to the way they were. No more of Pendragon following him, no talking to each other, no contact. 

 

Rivals. In class, in Quidditch, in life. At least, that is what it had been between them for nearly six years. 

 

Merlin unclenched the fists he didn’t realize he had been holding, loosening his grip on his Cleansweep. They reached the pitch at the same time that Merlin reached a realization. It was just a ploy by Pendragon, nothing more. A strategy, simple but effective. One small, familiar smile to rattle Merlin. To unsettle him, confuse him. To make him lose focus on the game. 

Merlin frowned, full of anger at his realization. He mounted his broom before Nimueh could say a word to the team, and shot up into the sky…

 

 

Fifteen minutes later both teams were on the pitch, ready to play. The sky was a bright blue, with a shining sun. There was no danger of rain this time. Merlin flew in circles, taking his anger and fuelling it into the task ahead of him. He shot past the stands, noticing Gwen, Lancelot and Freya, waving and cheering as if the game had already started. 

Nimueh yelled at Merlin, gesturing for him to get into the opening position. He came to a stop on the left side of the Slytherin half as the Snitch, Bludgers and Quaffle were released. 

 

 

Gryffindor was fast today. Within a few seconds, Elyan had the Quaffle and was speeding past Nimueh and Sophia. Merlin was caught off guard briefly, then shot after Gwen’s brother. He ducked under one of Gryffindor’s Beaters; the bigger one, Percival, just missing getting hit by his foot. 

Elyan was already far ahead, and he fired the Quaffle into the right hoop on Slytherin’s goalside. Tristan tried to catch it but missed, the sound of Gryffindor gaining ten points echoing through the stands. 

Merlin exhaled sharply, this was not how he wanted to start the game. 

He shot upwards fast, catching the Quaffle from Tristan, flying upside down, looping around the two Gryffindor Chasers that were on his tail. He ducked down, leaning forward on his reliable broomstick, speeding up as he tossed the Quaffle to Sophia. She caught it briefly, but one of the Bludgers knocked the front of her broom, making her lose her balance, and her grip on the Quaffle. She steadied herself, but the Quaffle had fallen, caught neatly by Pendragon. 

Merlin frowned harder, chasing after him. 

 

Pendragon was far ahead, his broomstick much faster than Merlin’s. Nimueh called to Sophia to intercept, but Pendragon had already thrown the Quaffle to Elyan. The other Gryffindor Beater, Gwaine, had flown in front of Tristan, blocking his view as Elyan shot the Quaffle through the tallest hoop, earning another ten points for Gryffindor. A cheer shot through the stands, setting Merlin’s nerves on edge. 

He sped through the sky, flying wide and raising his arm, both as a guide for Tristan and to prepare to catch the Quaffle. Tristan caught his eye and threw hard, over the heads of Pendragon, Gwaine and Elyan. Merlin caught it tightly and took off in the opposite direction, toward the Gryffindor goalposts. 

He ducked under a Bludger, shot at him by Percival, and tossed the Quaffle to Nimueh, who was flying directly under him. She caught it, and with impressive speed, she pitched it to Sophia. The three Slytherin chasers rotated positions, beginning a familiar strategy. Sophia made a move to throw the Quaffle to Nimueh, but switched her arm movement last minute, and threw it to Merlin instead. Merlin received it with no problem, and fired it into Gryffindor’s tallest hoop. 

 

Merlin cheered along with his team, and the rest of the Slytherins in the stands. Confidence regained, he leaned low on his Cleansweep and headed back down the pitch. A Bludger was sent towards him fast, and he had a brief moment of panic. Isolde came speeding by, hitting the Bludger away from Merlin with a hard swing of her club. He breathed easier, making a mental note to compliment Isolde’s skills after the game. 

 

He came closer to the Gryffindor side, watching Sophia gain possession of the Quaffle and toss it cleanly to Nimueh. Nimueh moved to the far right side, Merlin flying fast down the middle of the pitch. Nimueh launched the Quaffle towards him, and he flew slightly slower, ready to catch it. 

 

A red blur shot past him, taking Merlin by surprise. Pendragon had neatly intercepted the Quaffle, and was heading back up the pitch. Merlin let out a groan of frustration, and followed the Gryffindor Captain at impressive speed. He leaned as far forward as he could, chest pressing into the handle of his broomstick, green robes whipping out behind him. The quick wind pushed his naturally messy hair against his head, as he caught up to Pendragon. 

 

Like it had been during that first Quidditch match, Merlin was struck with this sudden, blinding focus, noticing nothing but Pendragon. Merlin concentrated hard, eyeing the Quaffle tucked in the Gryffindor’s strong arm. Merlin shifted his gaze, meeting Pendragon’s stare. 

 

Eye to eye, the deepest blue meeting the brightest. 

 

Time suddenly slowed down, and Merlin no longer heard the cheers of the crowd, or the wind whipping by his ears. With the bright sun shining, and the backdrop of the bright blue sky, Merlin was suddenly transported, reminded of old, wonderful memories. Endless days of laughter and imagination. Him and Arthur, flying around above the bright green hillside outside Ealdor. Pendragon gave him a slow smile. It was not an arrogant, smug smile of victory, but a warm, familiar smile, full of friendly, competitive nature, and a look of admiration.

 

For this one, frozen moment, he was no longer Pendragon. 

He was Arthur again. 

 

 

 

The noise of the game came flooding to Merlin’s ears, and snapped him out of his untimely reverie. He looked ahead just in time to throw his arm protectively over his face. 

 

He crashed hard into Mordred, who had been an arm’s reach from the Snitch. They both regained their balance, Merlin giving Mordred a horrified, apologetic look. About to ask Mordred if he was hurt, Merlin was interrupted by the crowd cheering even louder, as the end of the game was announced.  

Merlin looked around in confusion and saw Gryffindor’s Seeker, a dark haired sixth year called Mithian, flying around the stands, holding the Golden Snitch in victory. Merlin’s heart sunk as his face grew hot. His momentary distraction had cost them the game. 

 

 

Gryffindor had won. 


	11. Siblings and Snowfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's friends go home for the holidays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all you lovelies! Thanks so much for sticking around, even though updates are DEFINITELY not as often as I'd like. 
> 
> As a thank you, here is a fairly long chapter, I had LOTS of fun writing it, and I really hope you guys like it. There mayyy be some more interaction happening in this chapter ;)
> 
> Also, shoutout to one of my favourite Slytherins, Sorsha_Grace_Pendragon for helping me construct and flesh out a few ideas in this chapter! She's the BEST, go give her some love please! 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much again, comments are ALWAYS appreciated!  
> Enjoy! :)

 

 

 

The sky was a blueish grey, littered with white spots of gently falling snow. The wind was soft and subtle, closer to an autumn breeze than a winter wind. The air smelled of firewood, cinnamon candles, and cold. 

 

Merlin stood in the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts, giving his best friend a hug. The Hogwarts Express was to arrive in half an hour, taking students who were going home for Christmas. Both Gwen and Lancelot were leaving, much like the majority of Hogwarts students. 

Lancelot’s family had invited Gwen over for the holidays; now that her and Lancelot had been a couple for two years, they wanted to welcome her as part of the family. Merlin wasn’t looking forward to his first Christmas holiday without Gwen, but he hid it well, determined to send her off in good spirits. 

Merlin gave Lancelot a hug as well, then stepped back to smile at his two best friends. 

“You’re sure you’ll be fine?’ Gwen asked, a teasing tone thinly veiling her seriousness. ‘I don’t _have_ to go.”

Merlin nodded, teasing back, “You do know I survived the first eleven years of my life without you, right?” 

 

Gwen’s expression relaxed, and she gave her friend a half-smile. “Well, it’s a wonder you did.” 

Lancelot laughed, putting his arm around Gwen and resting his cheek on the top of her brown, curly hair. 

“Are you seeing Freya before she goes?” Lancelot asked. Merlin nodded. 

“I should go now actually, I think she's waiting for me.” 

 

“We’re right behind you.” Gwen replied. The three of them walked down the short staircase that led  to the front of the school. They talked and joked around for the twenty minute walk to the train station in Hogsmeade. Merlin enjoyed the moment with his friends, trying not to think about how lonely he was going to be for the next two weeks. With Gwen, Lancelot and Freya gone, Merlin would have less people around to distract him during a time when he needed it most. This two week period always brought up painful memories of his father. 

 

The only good thing about this holiday was that Pendragon never stayed at Hogwarts. At least he had no chance of getting distracted by the curious Gryffindor. 

Since their loss against Gryffindor, the Slytherin team had continued to play poorly. They had lost two games against Hufflepuff, and barely managed to end with a draw against Ravenclaw. As increasingly frustrating as Merlin (and the rest of the team) found it, he did not channel his frustrations towards Pendragon, like he had for the past six years. In fact, every moment of eye-contact, or shy, knowing smile, that Pendragon displayed, made Merlin less angry. If anything, he grew more confused. 

On the outside, Pendragon remained the pompous, arrogant prat he had always been. But sometimes, there was a glance between them during dinners in the Great Hall, a shared grin when Professor Gauis made an amusing comment in Potions.

In those moments, he was a different person than the one who he grew up with, than the one he had been rivals against. He was even different from the boy who had slipped into the hospital wing the night of Merlin’s accident. Somehow, even with the limited communication between them, Merlin sensed Pendragon was different. Warmer, more natural.

It made him hopelessly frustrated.

 

They reached the station, students and professors bustling around, chatting and moving suitcases onto the impressive, red steam engine. Merlin noticed Freya leaning against a pillar, bag beside her and a book in her hand. Merlin smiled; she looked lovely in her dark blue coat, the gentle snowflakes landing on her dark hair and slightly pink cheekbones. She looked up from her book and met his smile. 

Gwen and Lancelot followed Merlin as he walked to meet Freya. Greeting her, and promising to save a seat for her on the train, they entered the Hogwarts Express, both giving Merlin a heartfelt wave. 

“Good book, then?” Merlin smirked, looking at the worn out cover. Freya giggled, a quick, soft sound. She turned the book over, showing him the title of the large book: _Animagi: From Theory to Practice._  

“It’s very interesting so far, and definitely useful.” She smiled, warm brown eyes looking up at him. After officially dating for about a month, Freya had lost a fair bit of her shy attitude towards Merlin, but remained just as smart and sweet. Since dealing with the irritating and confusing behaviour from Pendragon, Merlin appreciated that he could rely on Freya, her personality a constant. 

“Well, I hope you find time to relax. You deserve it, you know.” He tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, warm fingers melting the snowflakes he touched. 

Freya smirked. “Reading _is_ my relaxing, thank you very much. I’ll miss you, though.” 

Merlin grinned and leaned down, lightly pressing his lips to hers. 

 

*

Merlin leaned back on the wooden chair, stretching his long arms high above his head and sighing. The Three Broomsticks was quiet, not empty certainly, but already missing the volume and life it usually had when Hogwarts students were around. Merlin stared at his half-full glass of Butterbeer, as he wished desperately for it to be January. 

The door opened, letting in a gust of wind as Mordred stepped in, long Slytherin scarf wrapped tightly around his face. Merlin waved, catching Mordred’s attention. Mordred unravelled his scarf and walked over to Merlin’s table, sitting down in the chair opposite. 

“I thought you were going back home for the holidays?” Merlin asked. 

Mordred shook his head. “No, my dad offered, but I’d rather just stay here.” 

“Fair enough.” Merlin smiled, his mood greatly improving at the sight of a friend. He relaxed, placing his elbows on the table as Mordred ordered himself a Butterbeer. The bartender came within a minute with Mordred’s drink, condensation running down the outside of the glass. 

Mordred took a sip and sighed. “So, how are things going with you and Freya?” 

Merlin smiled. “Really great, actually. Although, Gwen never lets me hear the end of it.” He rolled his eyes as Mordred laughed. 

“Fancy herself a bit of a matchmaker, does she?” 

“Exactly.” Merlin took a drink of his own Butterbeer. They sat in silence for a few moments, soaking up the quiet, warm atmosphere of the pub. 

“So what about you?” He asked. 

Mordred gave him a puzzled look. “What?” 

“You fancy anyone?” Merlin asked in a light sarcastic tone, trying to lessen the awkwardness of his question. Mordred’s face flushed red, and he stared down at the table. 

“Oh…um, you don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.” Merlin said softly, picking awkwardly at a small splinter in the table.

Mordred looked up and sighed. “No…I mean, it’s fine. Nothing’s going to happen anyway, um. Yeah. Cause she’s in seventh year, so yeah. I don’t mind you asking.” 

Merlin smiled, amused by his young friend’s flustered voice. “An _older woman_ , huh?” He teased lightly. 

Mordred rolled his eyes, but laughed a little. 

“Who-“ Merlin started to ask, but was interrupted at the look on Mordred’s face. His flushed cheeks had turned a ghostly white, as his eyes were fixed on the door. “Shit…I mean. She’s _here_.”

Merlin turned in his chair, watching Morgana Pendragon walk into The Three Broomsticks, wearing a dark woollen hat and an irritated frown. 

Merlin snapped his attention back to Mordred. “You like _Morgana Pendragon_?” 

“Shh!” Mordred hissed, looking back down at the table and placing a hand against his forehead, blocking his face from view, as if it would help make him invisible. Merlin snickered, looking back at the door. Mordred lightly slapped Merlin’s arm and hissed again. “Well, don’t _look_!” 

Merlin laughed louder, but was stopped abruptly when Pendragon walked through the door, joining his sister with an equally irritated expression. Merlin turned back to Mordred, now matching his friend’s pink face. Mordred frowned, as the two Pendragon’s walked to a table, only a few down from their own. 

“Bloody Pendragon.” Mordred scoffed under his breath. 

“If you have so much against him, why would you like his sister?” Merlin blurted out, surprised at his own intensity. He lowered his voice. “I just mean…she’s a _Pendragon,_ after all.” 

Mordred relaxed slightly, now that Morgana was out of his eye-line.

 “Well, I guess I don’t really think of her as his sister. They hardly ever talk, haven’t you noticed?” Mordred asked. 

Merlin had noticed, of course. He had spent the past six years glaring at Pendragon, after all. It was easy to see his lack of communication with his half-sister. 

 

Merlin shook his head. “No, I hadn’t.”

 

Mordred frowned, sneaking a glance at the two Pendragons. “I’m surprised to see them together, to be honest.” 

Merlin sipped his Butterbeer, shrugging as casually as he could. In his and Mordred’s silence, they heard angry voices from the corner table. 

 

“Be reasonable, Morgana! I’m allowed to have a reaction.” 

“Oh please, this is nothing more than you whining like a child.” 

 

Mordred met Merlin’s eye, and Merlin raised his eyebrows in response. Mordred stifled a laugh. They heard Pendragon breathe a heavy sigh. His volume increased. 

 

“You don’t _know_ what I’m upset about, you can’t-“

“Oh, but I do, dear brother. I know you better than you think.’ Morgana snapped back, switching into a mocking, sarcastic tone. “Poor Arthur, Daddy doesn’t want to take him with him on this year’s trip! Poor child-“

“Morgana!” 

“Please! You’re just moping around. You’ve been left behind, and now you’re not Daddy’s precious prince anymore. Now you’re not any better than me.”

“That’s not-“ 

“Save it Arthur. No need to _grace_ me with your presence.”

 

The loud scraping of chair legs on wooden flooring was heard, and Merlin turned to see Pendragon’s chair kicked back. He was already halfway across the floor, stomping away from his sister. He passed Merlin and Mordred’s table without a glance, and stormed out of the pub, slamming the door behind him. 

 

Mordred and Merlin stared at each other, and Mordred snorted out laughter. He turned and looked at Morgana, impressed, and a little in awe. 

“I think I might be in love.” Mordred breathed, words said with slight humour, but clear admiration. 

It was Merlin’s turn to laugh. “Hey, now’s your chance. Go _comfort_ her.” 

Mordred’s face went red and he stopped smiling. “Don’t be stupid, Merlin.”

Merlin smiled, “I’m serious. Go talk to her, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

“Did you _not_ just see what she did to Pendragon?” 

“Yeah, you’ll have lots to bond over.” Merlin snickered. Mordred rolled his eyes, but kept looking back at Morgana, who was sitting with her elbow on the table, chin in her hand. She was still frowning, but seemed calmer already. 

Merlin pulled Mordred’s Butterbeer out of his grasp and gave a waving motion with his hands. “Go on!” He shooed. Mordred’s face became more red, but he stood up anyway. He took a deep breath, and walked over to the bar. 

 

Merlin watched with admiration as his young friend ordered two more Butterbeers, and with slightly shaking hands, walked over to Morgana Pendragon, and offered her one. Morgana said something Merlin couldn’t quite hear, but she gave a small smile to Mordred, and gestured for him to sit in the chair that had just held her brother. Mordred awkwardly sat down, and Merlin stared hard, trying to read what they were saying. 

Merlin sipped his Butterbeer, still smiling at his teammate. A few minutes passed, and Morgana suddenly laughed at something Mordred said, making Mordred blush. Merlin watched with a sense of pride, and a little surprise, as Morgana kept the conversation going, smiling and giggling. 

Merlin traced his fingers along the table, eyeing Mordred with pride. Things were going well, it seemed. Mordred and Morgana looked to be having a natural conversation. He noticed Morgana get up, and order two Firewhiskies. Mordred glanced at Merlin and gave him a wide eyed look of disbelief, paired with an awkward smile. Merlin raised his glass in congratulations, laughing quietly. 

Morgana returned to the table with the drinks, and her and Mordred continued talking. Merlin sighed, staring at his empty glass. As amusing as it was to watch his young friend try to flirt, he felt himself getting tired. With a slight wave to Mordred, Merlin buttoned his coat back up, and wound his Slytherin scarf back around his neck. He got up from his chair and, with one more proud look at his young teammate, Merlin left the pub. 

 

 

The sky was that deep blue black of a cloudy night. The snowfall was so light and soft, and there was barely a whisper of a breeze. Merlin walked down the Hogsmeade road, his steps making deep footprints in the fresh powdered snow. Merlin breathed a deep sigh, completely content with the air of nature and magic around him. He walked more slowly, transfixed by the snowflakes dancing by the lit street lamps. As he reached the end of the street, a soft wind blew his hair back, snow lightly sprinkling his face. Merlin smiled, listening to the magical world around him, closing his eyes. 

 

It was at that moment, Merlin tripped. 

 

Eyes instantly opening in time to see the snow covered street rush at him, Merlin reflexively stuck his hands out, landing hard in the snow, but seemingly uninjured. He slowly twisted his body, shifting so he was sitting in the snow. 

 

“Not as graceful on your feet as on your broomstick, hey Emrys?” 

 

Merlin looked up to see Pendragon, hands in his coat pockets, an amused smile on his face. Merlin frowned. 

“Very funny.” He placed his bare hands on the snowy ground, starting to push himself up.  Pendragon immediately stuck a hand out to Merlin, an offer of help. 

Merlin narrowed his eyes, but his arm reacted before his mind could tell him otherwise, and grasped Pendragon’s hand. Pendragon pulled him up with seemingly no effort, giving a nod. 

Merlin muttered a quiet ‘Thanks.’ and started to turn back down the road, towards Hogwarts. Pendragon stared at him, and Merlin self consciously brushed the loose snow off his coat.

“What?” 

 

Pendragon put his hands in his pockets, nodding his head slightly towards the direction of the school. “Mind if I walk back with you?” 

It was Merlin’s turn to stare. He searched Pendragon’s face for some clear objective. Eventually, he sighed, and turned again towards the school. 

“I won’t stop you.” Merlin answered, walking a little quicker through the gentle snow. He stared at the ground, more conscious about watching where he was walking, and heard Pendragon walking behind him. 

A few more minutes passed, both students walking in silence, except for the soft crunch of footsteps on snow. Merlin switched between staring at his feet, and stealing glances at Pendragon, who was also looking at the ground. 

"Um...nice effort on that Ravenclaw match. By the way."

 

Merlin narrowed his eyes, and turned to look at the Gryffindor. "If you're just here to gloat about how Gryffindor is in the lead, don't bother." 

He marched faster through the snow, the castle entrance in sight. 

Pendragon picked up his pace as well, his strides effortless. "No. Wait, I- I just meant you did well. Your house would've lost the match if it wasn't for you at the end there." 

 

Merlin stopped walking, hands deep in his pockets. Pendragon noticed and stopped as well, looking confused. 

Merlin frowned. "Sorry...was that...a _compliment_?" 

 

Pendragon breathed a heavy sigh, starting to walk again. "Just...never mind." He mumbled. 

 

Merlin followed after him, frown deepening in confusion. A minute passed, and Merlin stared at his feet again, mumbling "Well thanks, I guess."

His soft thanks made Pendragon smile briefly, and Merlin gave a quick nod. 

Merlin looked up at the falling snow, giving his neck a break from looking down so much. What was wrong with him? Here he was, walking practically side by side with his rival, for nearly ten minutes at this point. They should have cursed each other by now. Merlin had six years of insults in the back of his mind, any of which would be completely satisfying to spit at Pendragon. Yet he didn't want to ruin this weirdly peaceful moment with anger and aggression. Not like he used to, anyway. 

Pendragon's words snapped Merlin out of his racing thoughts. "You were at The Three Broomsticks before, right?" 

"Um, yeah." Merlin nodded, not sure where this unexpected conversation was going. 

"I don't suppose you heard the argument I was having?" Pendragon asked. 

Merlin gave a twisted half smile in response. "Only the whole thing."

Pendragon sighed. "My sister has _very_ strong opinions." 

Merlin laughed without meaning to. "Oh, I know she does."

Pendragon gave Merlin a side glance, an odd expression on his face. 

 

"What?" Merlin asked, old defences rising in his words. 

 

Pendragon smirked. "I suppose you do, don't you? Know Morgana's personality, I mean." 

It was Merlin's turn to smirk. "What, forgot, did you?"

Pendragon shook his head, and smiled wider. "No, not exactly..."

 

Merlin gaze went back to his feet, his face growing warm despite the increase in the snowy wind. 

 

“Listen, Emrys, that’s actually sort of what I wanted to talk to you about." Pendragon said, words coming out quickly. 

 

Merlin gave a hesitant look. “O _kay_.”

Pendragon stared at his feet yet again, and if Merlin hadn’t known Pendragon to be so confident, he might’ve called the expression on his face nervousness. 

“Well…it’s been. _Nice_ , I guess. Sort of talking again, I mean.” 

“ _I’m_ not the one who stopped the talking in the first place.” Merlin snapped. 

“I _know_ that.’ Pendragon argued. ‘I just mean, that maybe we don’t _have_ to avoid each other all the time.” 

 

“I wouldn’t say we _avoid_ each other.’ Merlin replied. ‘More like…limit ourselves to insults on the Quidditch pitch.”

“Exactly.”

 

Merlin stopped dead, realizing how close they were to the front of the castle. “Hang on Pendragon,’ he laughed crudely, realizing the absurdity of the conversation. “Are you suggesting we become _friends_?” He hit the last word with all the sarcasm he could use. 

 

Pendragon smirked. “ _Obviously_ not. I hardly think that would go over well.” 

Merlin raised his eyebrows, matching Pendragon's smirk. "Considering the entire Slytherin house despises you, yeah, friendship might be a problem." 

Pendragon's bright blue eyes shone. “Exactly. So, I guess that’s it then.”

 

Merlin smiled at the Gryffindor, despite everything in his mind telling him not to. “Right."

 

" _Not_  friends, then." Pendragon said. 

 

Merlin nodded. “Yep."

 

They reached the front of Hogwarts, Pendragon giving Merlin a smile reminiscent of the one he had given during their last Quidditch match. He then walked ahead of Merlin, up the stone steps leading to the castle. 

 

Pendragon called behind him as he pushed open the large door. “So, I guess I’ll _not_ see you tomorrow then.”

 

“Definitely not.” Merlin smirked after him, watching Pendragon walk into Hogwarts.

He stood still at the bottom of the stone steps, hands still in coat pockets. His mind raced, still trying to understand what had just happened. His usual aggression towards Arthur Pendragon had all but vanished in these last twenty minutes, the familiar rivalry between them gone in those moments, replaced by something older, and more familiar. Despite his confusion, Merlin couldn’t help but smile to himself as he walked into the castle.

 

Maybe the Christmas holidays wouldn’t be so lonely after all. 

 


End file.
